


The Secrets that you Keep

by Eldalire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldalire/pseuds/Eldalire
Summary: Enjolras has a secret





	1. Chapter 1

The weekly volunteer meetings always ended promptly at 8:00. The group’s leader, Enjolras, made sure of it. No matter what the topic of discussion, no matter how deeply engaged the conversation was, the moment the clock in the corner of the community center struck 8:00PM, the meeting was over.

            Very few of the members questioned it. Enjolras was a lawyer with his own practice, and though young—23 years old—he was already quite renowned for winning a high-profile armed robbery case. He was probably just busy.

            One night, however, things got particularly heated, and a shouting match broke out.

            Enjolras was typically level headed. Passionate, yes, but difficult to truly anger. He would raise his voice, yes, but real shouting was something rare, and everyone watched silently when his lid blew, his face red, standing on his toes to look Grantaire in the face.

            “It isn’t going to work,” Grantaire said, his calm, matter-of-fact tone driving Enjolras even further up the wall.

            “It IS going to _work_ , if what you mean by _work_ is feed the hungry!” Enjolras growled back, his teeth grit. Prouvaire, I particularly timid young man, leaned into Feuilly, his eyes wide.

            “You’re not going to get any more than a regular food drive. Why do you need to do anything? The poor can get food there,”

            “This isn’t about donation, _Grantaire,_ this is about the cost of healthful food! Have you not been listening!? You’re impossible! Why do you even come, if you—!” A quiet beeping was just audible, a whisper under the shouts. 8:00 flashed on his watch. Enjolras turned and quickly collected his things—a binder, a pencil, his cell phone, his keys—and headed towards the door. Grantaire grabbed his shoulder.

            “What the fuck. Were we talking, or—?”

            “I have to go,” he said, short, still on edge.

            “You can’t just leave mid-sentence!”

            “I can, and I’m going to!” he shook of Grantaire’s hand and stormed from the building, leaving the rest of the group silent and concerned in the meeting room. Grantaire buried his face in his hands and groaned.

            “Don’t worry, Darling, it isn’t you—” Prouvaire offered comfortingly, reaching up and running his butterfly hand up and down R’s back.

            “No, no it’s not that, I just…I shouldn’t have yelled at him, I was…I mean, I was going to—I don’t know,”

            “Ask him out, finally?” Bahorel, Grantaire’s roommate, finished the thought with a smirk. Grantaire’s face turned red.

            “Yeah,” he replied after a moment. “Yeah I was,”

            “You have a funny way of professing love,” Joly noted, pushing up his glasses.

            “I know, I’m so stupid. I just…I like hearing him talk, and I know he’ll talk if I get him going, you know? But I shouldn’t have. Now he’s pissed at me…And he’s gone, just like always,”

            “Try again next meeting,” Bossuet suggested with a smile, “or call him,” He was always terribly optimistic.

            “I guess I’ll have to…Tomorrow, though. He turns his phone off at night. It’s like he turns back into a pumpkin at 8:00 or something,” Feuilly snorted a laugh, playing with his phone absently in a chair as Jehan ran his hands through his hair.

            “He’s just a very private person, I think,” he noted in his sweet, soft sort of way, untying Feuilly’s messy bun and retying it neatly. As much as Feuilly hated the whole man-bun movement, he couldn’t cut it until it was long enough to donate. He had been doing it for years.

            “VERY private,” R replied. “too bad the mystery only makes me want him more,” he grumbled under his breath. Bossuet gave him a playful whack.

            “Weirdo,”

            “Well I’d better be going,” Jehan cooed, taking Feuilly’s hand. “I have papers to grade,”

            “How much grading could possibly be involved teaching kindergarten?” Bossuet chuckled.

            “Quite a lot, actually!” Jehan retorted, mocking hurt feelings, his hand pressed to his chest as if truly offended. “They’re very clever little ones! Not to mention their writing involves quite a bit of decoding,”

            “Guess that means I’m out too,” Feuilly said, standing, his hand still in Jehan’s.

            “But you’re not dating or anything,” Grantaire said with a smirk.

            “Can it,” Feuilly barked back, pulling Jehan close a heading toward the door. “Night guys,” he called. Jehan turned and offered a wave. Grantaire sighed heavily, honestly jealous. Courfeyrac had Combeferre, Jehan had Feuilly, and Bahorel had his girlfriend, Eponine…Even Joly, an insufferable hypochondriac, had managed to snag himself a boyfriend in Bossuet. And then there was Grantaire, unable to so much as speak to the man he was in love with without completely offending him.

            “Come on, guys,” Bossuet said, standing. Joly blew his nose. “We’ll all walk out together,” he smiled, and the rest of the bunch left the community center, laughing and talking…Grantaire listened, his hands shoved in his pockets.

 

—o0o—

 

10:16 AM—R: hey

10:17 AM—Enjolras: good morning

10:17 AM—R: Sorry about last night

10:18 AM—Enjolras: that’s alright…I get passionate!

10:18 AM—R: cool.

10:22 AM—R: hey I was actually wondering if you maybe wanted to grab dinner tonight or something, if you felt like it

10:23 AM—Enjolras: don’t worry about last night, you don’t have to be sorry or make it up to me or anything

10:23 AM—R: No not that just like…to go out I guess

10:24 AM—Enjolras: lol never thought I’d hear that from you. I thought you hated me!

10:24 AM—R: no. no never! I mean I just don’t know you that well I’m sort of new to the group I’d like to get to know you better. But its cool if you don’t want to

10:24 AM—Enjolras: yeah sounds fun :-) I just have to be home before 8:30

10:25 AM—R: why?

10:26 AM—Enjolras: so where are we going? 6:00 OK?

10:26 AM—R: oh um…wherever I guess yeah 6 is fine

10:27 AM—R: Musain?

10:28 AM—Enjolras: sounds good! I’ll meet you there

10:29 AM—R: I can pick you up

10:30 AM—Enjolras: no that’s ok I live close I’ll just walk

10:30 AM—R: ok I’ll see you there then I guess : )

10:31 AM—Enjolras: great! Thanks for the invite

10:32 AM—R: : )

 

            “What did he say?” Bahorel asked when Grantaire put his phone down on the coffee table.

            “He’s so weird…I haven’t seen anyone put a nose in the smile face emoji thing since like, 10th grade,” Grantaire replied. Bahorel made a face

            “What the hell are you talking about?”

            “Nothing. Yeah, he said yes,” he smiled, almost nervously.

            “Wow that’s awesome! Where are you going to take him?”

            “He’s meeting me at the Musain at 6:00,”

            “He’s meeting you there? You should offer to pick him up,”

            “I did. He said he lived close and wanted to walk. He also said he had to leave by 8:00,”

            “Are you surprised by that?” Bahorel sat on the arm of the sofa, resting his elbow on the backrest.

            “No…But I asked why and he totally changed the subject. It’s just weird.”

            “Eh, it’s whatever. Maybe he’s gotta take medication or something. I wouldn’t dwell on it,”

            “Yeah I guess…” he shrugged.

 

—o0o—

 

Grantaire glanced at his wristwatch: 6:12PM. He sat alone in the booth at the back of the café, glancing between his glass of water and the door.

            “Hey R,” Eponine, Bahorel’s girlfriend, asked as she approached the table with her notepad. “Ready to order?”

            “No, I…I’m waiting for someone,”

            “What time were they supposed to be here?” she asked gently, seeing Grantaire’s distress. She knew what it looked like when someone was getting stood up…She saw it a lot as a waitress.

            “6:00,”

            “Oh! Not too long! They’re probably just running late,”

            “Yeah,”

            “I’ll come back in a little bit,” she smiled, and gave Grantaire a rub on the shoulder.

            Another five minutes passed, and Grantaire was beginning to worry, when he suddenly heard the bell as the door swung open. He could see those golden curls from across the bar, and would have known that red pea coat anywhere. He smiled and stood up in the booth, giving a little wave as Enjolras scanned the room. He hurried over when he saw.

            “I am so sorry I’m late,” he said as he sat across from Grantaire, sliding into the booth. R noted how he pressed himself into the corner, his shoulder against the windowpane.

            “Don’t worry about it. Everything ok?”

            “Oh yes, I was just…taking care of a few things and lost track of time. I’m sorry. I’m not usually like that,” he ran a hand through his coiling curls.

            “No worries. How’ve things been going with that affordable grocery thing?” he asked. Enjolras smiled.

            “Extremely well,” he explained, “I found a program that collects produce that doesn’t meet grocery store ‘quality standards’ who sells them for less than half the normal price,”

            “But why would you want to give people sub-par apples and stuff?” Grantaire asked honestly, hoping he didn’t sound rude. But Enjolras’ face remained happily glowing. He loved talking about this stuff, and Grantaire knew it.

            “See, ‘sub par’ for a grocery store just means that the produce isn’t shaped properly, or it has a blemish on the skin. It’s completely safe to eat, it’s just…a little ugly, I guess, for lack of a better term!” Grantaire laughed.

            “I could be an ugly vegetable,” he said, “You’d be one of the good ones though,”

            “Oh I don’t know about that,” he said, too seriously, in a way, but quickly bounced back. “If you were a fruit or a vegetable, which one do you think you’d be?”

            “A green pepper,” he decided.

            “How come? I picture you more as a radish, or a root vegetable…you’re very steadfast. Roots are like that too,”

            “I guess I could be a radish. They’re a nice color,” he grinned. “what about you? What would you be?”

            “I’m not sure…I didn’t realize how difficult this question could be until after I asked it,” he chuckled, placing his hands on the table. Grantaire took note of them, long and thin and pale, he could see the bones in his wrists and on the backs, all the way up to the knuckles. They were beautiful hands, girlish hands, he thought, with clean fingernails and only a callus on his right finger from holding a pen.

            “I think I might be a yellow apple,” he finally stated, “somewhat mild, but a with a little bit of a sour aftertaste,” he laughed lightly.

            “I think you’re a rhubarb,” R said. “You’re skinny and you always wear red,” Enjolras snorted.

            “Accurate,” he admitted. “What are you looking at?” he had caught Grantaire staring at his hand, and quietly placed it in his lap, off the table, much to R’s dismay.

            “Sorry, I was just…Do you play the piano?”

            “I did when I was little…I remember a little bit…why?”

            “You have piano player fingers,” he smiled meekly, and Enjolras replaced his hand on the table.

 

            “So you’re a lawyer, right?” Grantaire asked after they ordered dinner.

            “I am. I’ve actually just opened my own practice, well, not just…it’s been about two years, now…”

            “Do you get many cases?”

            “Oh yes. Early on, I was hired by a man accused of armed robbery. It was very high profile, in the papers and things, there was overwhelming evidence against him, but I was all he could afford, seeing as I was only just out of college at the time. But we won the case. I’ve been busy since then,”

            “Wait, was that the guy who smashed the window with a crowbar and stole a bunch of stuff from a family, the guy who someone saw do it, but he was actually trying to stop the real guy and that’s why his DNA was there?”

            “Yup, that’s the case. Valjean, his name was,”

            “That’s awesome, that you got that case,”

            “Thank you…but enough of me, what do you do? I honestly don’t know much about you at all…”

            “I went to art school. I do greeting cards now. I sell some paintings on the side, sometimes. It’s sort of cheesy stuff in the cards, but it’s fun and it pays, so its whatever,”

            “That’s amazing. Just think of all the people who have read your cards with smiles!”

            “I’ve never thought of it that way…I guess it’s not so bad,”

            “Definitely not!”

 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

 

Enjolras’ wristwatch chimed the time: 8:00.

            “I have to get going,” he said. “I can stay a few more minutes, I live close, but…Sorry.”

            “It’s ok,” Grantaire smiled. “But why? It’s not late or anything,”

            “I just have things to take care of at home,”

            “Every night?”

            “Yes,” Enjolras replied shortly, answering before Grantaire finished his question. “Every night.”

            “Well…what is it? If you don’t mind me asking—”

            “Don’t worry about it. It was nice to see you, though…Maybe we could…do it again?” his cheeks reddened as he pulled his coat on.

            “Wait, really? You want to hang out with me again?”

            “I do. I actually quite enjoy your company, though I do tend to shout at you relatively often,” R laughed.

            “Yeah, I would love to! I…I actually really…really like you a lot,” Enjolras smiled, just the smallest smile, as he pulled his wallet from his pocket to pay.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Grantaire said. “I asked you. I’ll pay,”

            “I thought that was only a rule on dates,” Enjolras looked up with a cheeky grin.

            “Well I guess this is a date, then,” Grantaire replied.

            “I guess it is,” Enjolras smiled. “Thank you. I really do have to go now, but I’ll text you or call or something. Have a nice night!”

            “You too,” he replied as Enjolras hurried from the café, giving Eponine a wave and handing her a folded 10 note as he passed…a big tip. Grantaire was filled with a sort of warmth…Enjolras was a very giving person, it seemed, not that he didn’t know that already. 

 

 

boop doop


	2. Chapter 2

Things had been going well for a good while.

 

As summer arrived, the volunteer groups’ plans were put into motion, and soon, the local market had an entire section dedicated to Enjolras’ ‘ugly’ produce. The group decided it best to take the summer off, and Enjolras and Grantaire began spending just a little bit more time together…but only until 8:00 at night.

            Grantaire was waiting out on the stoop when Enjolras left his office for the day, a pleasant surprise for a tired lawyer.

            “Oh! Hello!” he smiled when Grantaire stood and took his hand. “What are you doing here?”

            “I figured we’d go for ice cream or something…It’s hot,”

            “That’s so thoughtful of you. Thank you,” they walked the short distance to the ice cream parlor. The sky was just beginning to turn a rosy shade when they arrived.

            “What do you want?” R asked as they stood at the counter. Standing at the tall window made Enjolras’ height painfully obvious. He was slender, with long limbs, and normally, he wouldn’t be called short. The way he held himself, spoke, walked—it all suggested a sort of confidence, which somehow made him seem taller, but standing there at the counter, it was easy to tell Enjolras was positively petite. Grantaire wasn’t especially tall—6’ even—but even so, Enjolras only reached his shoulder. He craned his neck to see the menu.

            “A small vanilla soft serve in a cup, please,” he smiled.

            “That’s it? That’s all you want? Not even sprinkles?”

            “That’s it,” he replied.

            “Alright…I’ll take the same with chocolate and peanuts,” he added. They sat on the bench under the nearby tree, and began their ice cream quietly, watching the cars pass. Despite their original shouting matches, Enjolras and Grantaire spent much of their time together in relative silence. But it wasn’t the sort of awkward silence that ruins a moment. It was more of a quiet time, a time to just be together, without having to say anything. Today, though, Grantaire saw something different in Enjolras’ blue eyes.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked. Enjolras leaned his head against his arm.

            “Guilty, I suppose,” he replied.

            “For what?”

            “I don’t know,” but he did know. Grantaire knew that he knew.

            “well…can I help?” Enjolras shook his head.

            “I’m going to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” he said with a small smile, standing, leaving his empty ice cream cup with Grantaire.

 

A moment later, R caught those unmistakable curls out of the corner of his eye. He turned, hoping to welcome Enjolras back to their bench with a smile, but instead, he watched as Enjolras approached the window again. He saw the girl serving the ice cream hand Enjolras another small bowl, this one covered with a plastic lid. Grantaire looked away before Enjolras could see him staring, watching, but heard him slip the container into his bag of paperwork that resided under the bench.

            “You ok?” Grantaire asked, taking his hand.

            “Yes. Better, now,” he smiled.

            “Good,” Grantaire replied. He looked at his watch. “It’s getting on 8:00,” he noted.   “I’ll walk you home.”

            “Oh no, that’s alright. I’ll just go,”

            “It’s ok, just let me take you. I want to,”

            “But you live the other direction. I don’t want you to do that,” he said just a tad too quickly, nervous, almost.

            “I could use the exercise,” he grinned, but Enjolras did not return the gesture.

            “No it’s fine,”

            “Enjolras, we’ve been dating for almost two months, and I don’t even know where you live,” he said. Enjolras winced at the pain in Grantaire’s voice. “I don’t understand. You’ve been to my place plenty of times, we hang out there all the time, but you’ve never invited me to your place. Why?”

            “Fine! Fine just walk me home, come on,” he sputtered, putting on a fake smile and taking Grantaire’s hand.

            “I mean, I won’t if you really don’t want me to, I just meant—”

            “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s walk to my place,”

            “Okay…”

 

It quickly became evident to Grantaire that Enjolras lived far below his means. His house was on one of the most costly streets in the area, all of the town homes large and well kept, with beautiful gardens and porches. Though they were duplexes, it wasn’t easy to tell. They were all historical buildings, some of brick, others of stone, most with clean wooden siding with neat, new paint in tasteful colors.

            “This is your place?” he asked when Enjolras stopped at the walkway of one of the homes, painted pale blue with white shutters and trim. The front lawn was perfectly trimmed, and it was obvious a family lived there, for there was a tiny pink bicycle with purple training wheels propped up against the corner of the home.

            “Well, the right side is mine,” he replied with a small smile.

            “Why didn’t you want to tell me you lived here? It’s beautiful,”

            “Oh, I just…people think of me differently when they see the things I have…It’s better to be humble, I think,”

            “Well I don’t think any differently of you.” he pushed a loose curl off Enjolras’ face gently. Enjolras did not reply for a long moment.

            “Thank you for taking me. It was a nice surprise,” he smiled, and Grantaire kissed his hair, holding him in a hug.

            “Any time, Apollo,”

            “Apollo?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “Yeah. God of the Sun, you know,”

            “But why call me that?”

            “Because you’re…you’re like the sun to me,”

            “Is that from the inside of one of your greeting cards?” Enjolras chuckled.

            “Nope. That one’s just for you!”

            “Goodnight, Grantaire,”

            “Night,” he replied, standing at the end of the front path until Enjolras was inside.

 

—o0o—

 

“Hey Courfeyrac,” Grantaire asked as he, Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, and Combeferre sat at the bar downtown. They frequented the place, and often found each other there simply by chance. Grantaire only went because he was bored, for he dared not have a drink for fear of relapse, but enjoyed the time with his friends, regardless.

            “What’s up?” Courfeyrac replied with a smile, showing the gap between his two front teeth.

            “You’re close with Enjolras, right?”

            “We went to elementary school together, he’s my best friend, so yeah I guess!” he chuckled. He was always laughing, the perfect foil to quiet, mild Combeferre.

            “Why does he always leave at 8:00, every single time we do anything?”

            “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, having another long sip of whatever it was he was drinking.

            “That’s exactly what Enjolras always says!” he replied.

            “Then maybe you shouldn’t worry about it,” Joly suggested, taking his second shot—Bourbon kills the stomach flu.

            “But I can’t not worry about it! I love him dearly, and he seems to feel the same. I just don’t understand. If there’s something wrong, I want to know. I feel like I have a right to know, since we’re dating,”

            “If he wants you to know, he’ll let you know,” Courfeyrac said.

            “Do the rest of you know?” Grantaire asked, looking around the table. Nobody made a move to reply.

            “Fuck you guys. Fuck this. I’m going to figure out what’s up. This is ridiculous,” he stood, shoved his chair back under the table, and left the bar, heading to Enjolras’ house.

 

By the time Grantaire reached the house, it was 10:34PM—Well past Enjolras’ ‘curfew’. He walked up the front path, to the door on the right side of the building, knocked, and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard pounding footsteps, a light flicking on behind the door.

            “Do you have any idea what time it is?! There are people sleepi—Grantaire?” Enjolras shouted, softening once he saw.  He stood in the doorway, puzzled, in a T shirt four sizes too big and flannel pajama bottoms—red, of course—that were rolled up, exposing his ankles. Grantaire noted a small tattoo, there, something written, a date, maybe, or a name. His hair was a mess, and he wore thick, red-rimmed glasses Grantaire would have found cute had the situation been different. “R what are you doing here?” he asked, stepping out onto the porch and shutting the door behind him.

            “I want to know what’s up, Enj. We can’t keep going like this, with all this secret bullshit. We hardly spend time together because you get off work at 6:00, and you _have to_ be home by 8:00, for some reason I’m apparently not allowed to hear, and I’m tired of it! How are we supposed to be together if we can only see each other for two hours a few times a week?”

            “This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring you here,”

            “I thought it was your humility,” Grantaire tossed back.

            “Why are you so worried about this?! It isn’t any of your business! We’re together all the time!”

            “It is my business! It became my business when we decided to be together, if you can even call it that. You won’t let me kiss you on the lips, sleeping together is completely out of the question—”

            “What the fuck! You have _no idea_ what’s going on—!”

            “Then maybe you should tell me!” he shouted. The door on the other side of the house opened, and an older man came outside.

            “Everything alright, Enjolras?” he asked.

            “Yes. I’m sorry, Monsieur Dubois,” he replied.

            “Just knock if you need anything,” he shut the door, and Enjolras’ eyes became stony. He set his jaw, and for someone of such small stature, there were few things more intimidating than Enjolras when he was angry.

            “Get out,”

            “I can’t get out you’ve never invited me inside before!”

            “Get off my porch!” he took a step forward, but Grantaire stood his ground.

            “I just want to know what’s going on, Enj,” he tried once again, gentler, pleading. “I just want to help,”

            “You can’t help. Nobody can help. Get off my porch.” Grantaire sighed heavily and finally backed down, heading down the porch stairs.

            “Night, Apollo,” he said quietly, looking over his shoulder as Enjolras stood on the porch, his arms crossed, folded in on himself. He did not look up, but Grantaire could see tears sparkling in the porch light.

 

“I love you,” Grantaire added.

 

Enjolras thought he might vomit.

 

 

 

plop.


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed, and Enjolras hadn’t returned any texts or calls from Grantaire. He was beginning to think he just lost the person he cared most for, and spent a considerable amount of time laying on the sofa, depressed.

            “Doing ok?” Bahorel asked as he entered the flat, his strong arms filled with grocery bags.

            “Yeah,” Grantaire replied halfheartedly.

            “Here, have this ugly pepper,” he tossed Grantaire an orange pepper that was bent in half, as if someone had folded it, flattening the middle.

            “nah,” he tossed it back.

            “Still no call, huh?”

            “Nope.”

            “have you seen him around?”

            “Nope.”

            “Can I do anything?”

            “Leave me alone,”

            “Fair enough,” Bahorel unpacked the groceries and headed to his bedroom, leaving Grantaire to his thoughts. He jumped when his phone buzzed.

           

10:13AM—Enjolras: Musain 12:00?

 

He sat up, his heart suddenly beginning to pound. He just looked at the message for a minute, floating in that little blue bubble on the screen, wondering what to reply. Should he apologize again? Or just say yes? He tapped out a message after thinking for a good while—too long, perhaps.

 

10:17AM—R: Meet you there

 

—o0o—

 

Enjolras was standing in the front of the café with his back to the door when Grantaire arrived, and he was startlingly disheveled. His typically neat, glossy curls were a mess of fly-away-s, and his eyes were dull behind the lenses of his glasses, which Grantaire had never seen him in before, besides the night they fought. He wore a Queen band T shirt and grey sweatpants, something Grantaire would never visualize him wearing, and an old pair of slide-on Vans.

            “Hey,” R said quietly, approaching Enjolras and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

            “Hey,” he replied.

            “Look, I’m sorry I—”

            “We should sit,”

            “Oh…yeah okay,” he followed Enjolras to the back of the café, to the booth in the corner—the booth they sat in on their first date. “What’s going on? You look, I mean…” he didn’t want to say he looked awful, though he most certainly did.

            “I haven’t slept much the past couple nights,” he explained briefly, looking down to the table, his hair flopping over his face. Grantaire sat quietly, waiting for whatever it was Enjolras was preparing to say. R wrung his hands.

            “Okay, Grantiare…” he said, lifting his head after quite some time. R nodded lightly, staying perfectly quiet, giving Enjolras his full attention. “A few years ago…five years ago…I…I made a mistake,” he began, pausing and taking a shaky breath, “A really, really big mistake.”

            “Okay,” he assured him, he took his hand across the table and held it gently. Enjolras didn’t pull away.

            “And…I’m still…that mistake is still…here,”

            “What did you do?” he asked as carefully, gingerly as he could. Enjolras’ lip quivered as he took another rattling breath.

            “I was in college, and…there was this girl, Louise…It was before I sort of…came out, I guess…I didn’t know what I wanted, I didn’t know what I was doing, and…we went out for a while…” he stopped again.

            “Alright,” Grantaire ran his thumb over Enjolras’ knuckles.

            “And we did everything, she was on birth control, we used a condom, it was literally a one-in-a-billion freak accident—”

            “Did she—?”

            “I didn’t know. She was older than me, she graduated two years ahead of me, but…lo and behold, about nine months later—”

            “You have a kid?” he asked. Enjolras was suddenly overcome with tears. “It’s alright, it’s okay,”

            “It’s not okay. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and now you’re going to leave, and—”

            “Hey, everyone screws up sometimes. It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

            “Her mother didn’t want her, she was going to put her up for adoption before I even saw her, and…I couldn’t just…I couldn’t leave her, I couldn’t let her go, so I…So I took her, and I have her, and…and…she was born—” he took another long pause, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “She’s deaf,” he finally brought himself to say, “And she can’t go to regular school, so every morning, before I go to work, I teach her, and in the afternoon she has a special tutor, babysitter of person, and I have to be home by 8:30 because that’s when her teacher leaves, and I promised her I’d tuck her into bed every night no matter what, and I can’t let her down. She’s so smart, and she’s so beautiful, and I love her so much, but…It wasn’t supposed to be like this. None of this was supposed to happen, and I hate myself for letting it happen. I don’t let you hold me or kiss me or touch me because I’m convinced in some messed up way that if I do, something else will happen, and, I just…”

            “What’s her name?” Grantaire asked with a smile. Enjolras looked up, puzzlement on his face that soon softened into relief.

            “Charlemagne,” he said, smiling, thinking of his little girl. “Her name is Charlemagne, but she only knows it like this,” he drew a u shape across his chin, from cheek to cheek, with his index finger, as if drawing a big smile. “That’s her sign,”

            “I didn’t know you could have a sign for your name. I thought you just had to spell it, like with the alphabet or something,”

            “Not everyone does, but some people, especially people who have never had their hearing, use it to identify themselves. The letters don’t mean anything to her because she doesn’t know what it sounds like, so it’s much easier for her to just use her sign.” Grantaire smiled, the tears gone from Enjolras’ eyes, his turmoil suddenly melted away as he talked about his daughter with such love and compassion and pride. “and she loves it when I braid her hair. That’s her favorite.” He smiled.

            “Can I meet her?”

            “You aren’t…I mean…You’re not going to leave?”

            “Why would I leave?”

            “Because I kept this from you…Because you didn’t sign up for a kid,”

            “I signed up for you,” he replied, “and if you’ve got a little girl, that means I signed up for her, too.” He smiled. “I really want to meet her,”

            “Let’s go, then,” Enjolras stood and offered R his hand.

 

—o0o—

 

When Enjolras opened the door, a little girl with a dark brown hair tied back in braids, and a young woman, with the same hair and eyes as Enjolras, sat on a plush sofa, reading a book.

“Thank you for watching her, Cosette,” Enjolras said. “R, this is my baby sister, Cosette,” he explained.

            “Never a problem! Nice to finally meet you!” she replied.

When she saw the door, the little girl leapt from the couch and ran to Enjolras, who crouched and took her into his arms. When she pulled away, Enjolras fisted his hands and placed his knuckles together over his heart, moving his thumbs up and down--'sweetheart'. Charlemagne grinned, before placing her thumb on her chin and curling her index finger twice, looking to Grantaire.

            “What does that mean?” he asked, worried he had done something wrong.

            “She asked who you are,” he smiled. “That’s my good friend, R” he said as he signed to Charlemagne. Grantaire smiled when he saw that the shape for ‘R’ was crossed fingers, like for good luck. He waved to the little girl. She looked to Grantaire and pointed to herself before drawing a smile across her face.

            “I’m Charlemagne,” Enjolras translated. “My Papa told me he—” Enjolras stopped mid-sentence as the little girl signed.

            “What?” R asked, puzzled. Enjolras’ face turned red.

            “My Papa told me he loves you,” Cosette grinned.

            “Cosette, you’re being a brat!” Enjolras tossed back, though he was laughing.

            “How do I say ‘I love your Papa too’? Grantaire asked. Enjolras signed for him: “R says he loves your Papa too,” Charlemagne gave a little hop and something close to a giggle. R was suddenly struck by how strange it must be to not be able to hear your own voice.

            “Say ‘you are very sweet’,” Grantaire added. Enjolras signed for the baby, and she clapped her hands. “and say ‘I’m glad to finally meet you’,”

            “You’ll have to learn some sign, R” Enjolras translated for the little girl. “I will teach you, she says,”

            “How do I say ‘thank you’?” Enjolras touched his fingertips to his chin, then pulled them away, almost like blowing a kiss. Grantaire did the same, and Charlemagne was delighted.  
  
  
  
  
the end

**Author's Note:**

> Read the second part here:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11069343


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